


The Woods Are Lovely

by givesamapuppy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givesamapuppy/pseuds/givesamapuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a job as a wilderness guide during his summers off at Stanford, and you have the great luck to be spending five days in the woods with him when he leads you and a few friends on a camping trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Woods Are Lovely

Floppy brown hair, easy bright smiles, deep dimples, strong hands, eyes that stole their color from galaxies. That’s what’s been running through your mind nonstop for the past two days, and you’ve determined you might actually go crazy if you don’t get your hands on Sam Winchester. For practically the entirety of your camping trip you’ve been in what amounts to a trance, all thanks to the hypnotizing presence of your tall wilderness guide. You were a lost cause as soon as he smiled at you and everything since then has been a blur. 

You’re currently hiking through a redwood forest in Northern California, the early-morning fog just starting to burn away and the birds waking to fill the woods with bright echoing greetings. The pace is unhurried; you don’t have particularly far to travel to your next camping site for tonight, and you and Sam have ended up falling back a few yards behind the four other members of your group. Sam’s talking about something, you’re not sure quite what anymore since you’ve been distracted by the dappled sunlight catching golden in his hair, but whatever it is you know it’s fascinating.

Sam’s a student at Stanford, he’s got a gig as a guide for the park service in the summers, and his intelligence and enthusiasm for talking about all things academic increases your crush tenfold. It’s becoming a problem, really, how much he’s been distracting you. Not to mention frustrating you—spending all this time around him has gotten you so worked up you’ve had to slip off to relieve the tension a ridiculous number of times, always with Sam’s name on your lips. 

Now he’s asking you a question, and you’re snapped back into reality as you attempt to sputter an answer that might come close to making sense. Apparently that attempt failed, as Sam is giving you an amused smile and a raised eyebrow. 

“Where’d you go?” he asks. 

You laugh nervously and look at your feet, not about to tell him what you were actually thinking about. “Ah, nowhere. Still waking up I guess.” 

He narrows his eyes like he doesn’t quite believe you but lets it go and returns to what he was saying. “So anyway, in the 1890s loggers were cutting down these trees like crazy to build houses for the new population pushing west. Some estimates say ninety-six percent of the original old-growth redwoods have been logged at some point.” 

Your companions have stopped up ahead, gathering around a mossy stump to pull out snacks and water bottles. You and Sam stop too, and you take a moment to enjoy the peaceful silence. Sam seems to have the same idea, gazing up and around at the canopy and then closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose. His eyelashes flutter so prettily against his cheeks, you have to hold in a sigh. 

“Mornings like these I understand what Steinbeck meant when he talked about a ‘cathedral hush’ in these forests,” he says, eyes still closed and face upturned. “Amazing, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, staring at the cut of his jaw and the line of his exposed throat. “Amazing.” 

That may have come out less subtly than you intended, judging by the way Sam immediately opens his eyes and turns to give you a look you can’t read, one with a little crinkle between the eyebrows and a hint of a smile. 

The two of you have had a casually flirty relationship, with joking banter and winks thrown back and forth, but you worry you may have inadvertently crossed the line to serious, so you backtrack quickly. 

“You’re such a nerd, Winchester,” you try to joke, but it comes out more like breathless admiration than teasing, and he notices. He definitely notices. You have to fight yourself not to glue your eyes to your toes and change the subject to avoid this awkwardness, but goddammit you’ve been pining from afar for long enough, so you steel yourself and meet his gaze. Sam’s foxlike eyes are searching, scanning your whole face critically, like you’re some puzzle he’s just nearly figured out. For several moments, he keeps you on edge before he appears to come to a conclusion. He glances over to your friends, who are currently occupied taking a million pictures of Jake making dumb faces next to some weird fungus, and then grabs both your upper arms and sweeps you off the path and behind a wide tree trunk. 

His hands are solid and warm wrapped around your biceps, and your heart rate has ramped up several notches. He looks a bit flustered himself, actually, which is surprising and also incredibly hot, because he’s licking his lips and they’re shiny wet and pink and he’s got this sincere puppy look in his eyes. 

“Okay. So.” He starts in a voice low enough not to attract attention. “I may be interpreting this wrong but we’ve been flirting around a lot and it seems like you’re interested in me.” 

“Oh. Uh. Yeah, actually. I am.” You just manage to stutter out before all abilities to produce speech are cut off by the toss-me-off-an-actual-cliff-you’re-so-fucking-gorgeous grin he breaks into as soon as he hears your assent. To say it steals your breath away would be an understatement, and you might fall down if it wasn’t for his hands which still have a firm hold on both your arms.

“Well,” he says, with a bit of a smirk at the corner of his grin, “that’s good to know.” 

He glances over to where your companions are still busy goofing around and looks back to you with a serious expression. “May I kiss you?” he asks, and you nearly knock your head off your shoulders nodding before he cups a hand around the back of your head and dips down to press his lips to yours. His lips are satiny soft and taste slightly salty from trail mix, and you regain enough control of your muscles to lift a hand and grab a fistful of his flannel. It’s sweet and warm and he smells like pine needles and mint aftershave, and he’s stroking at the back of your head with his thumb, which makes you sigh softly and lean closer into his chest. You feel him smile against your mouth before he pulls away. 

“We’d better get back,” he whispers, and with that he takes you by the hand and pulls you back out onto the path after him, letting go before you get in full view of your friends. He straightens his shirt and, after turning to wink at you, puts on a perfectly innocent expression and strides on ahead. 

The next few miles of trail are interspersed with stolen glances and sly smiles that make you blush and your heart skip a beat. You’re beyond happy your feelings are finally out there and you feel like you can still taste Sam on your lips, but that bit of encouragement got you way too hungry for more and you’re impatient to get some time alone. 

What’s absolutely not helping your situation at all is the way Sam is currently staring at you over the campfire where he’s boiling water for lunch. No one else seems to have noticed; every time someone asks him a question he snaps right out of it and acts all innocent as if he hasn’t just been looking at you like he’s imagining exactly what sounds you would make if he pinned you against the nearest tree and latched his lips onto your throat. Then he turns right back to you, and you can hardly sit still with the anticipation of whatever it is his eyes are so clearly promising. 

You’ve reached your next campsite early, so you’re setting up camp and cooking a real lunch. After that, the plan is to split off and do a little exploring of the surrounding area. You, on the other hand, have a different kind of exploring to do. 

While everyone is finishing up lunch and chatting, Sam clears his throat and gets up, brushing crumbs off of his lap and slinging a backpack over his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna scout out a possible trail for a day hike tomorrow. Don’t wander too far and remember to stay hydrated.” With that, he turns to leave, but not before catching your eye and jerking his head in indication for you to follow when you can. 

The amount of buffer time you manage to wait is a pretty un-subtle couple of minutes before you practically leap off of the log you’re sitting on and throw some explanation about filling up your canteen over your shoulder as you hustle off in the direction Sam went. You catch up to him where he’s waiting leaning against a tree with his arms crossed smiling like a beautiful idiot. After giving him a breathless, middle-school-crush “hey,” you place both hands on his chest and stand on your tiptoes to press yourself up against him. 

“Hey to you too,” he grins down at you before wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close and bringing a hand to tilt your head up, his thumb stroking the soft underside of your jaw. He leans down and teases you with a couple light brushes of his lips before kissing you in earnest. His mouth is slow and steady as it works against yours, and you open for him willingly when his tongue swipes at your lower lip. His hands are on your lower back now, scrunching up the material of your shirt so his fingertips are brushing lightly against bare skin. You feel his pecs twitch under your hands and you’re melting, relaxing under his mouth and hands until he has you letting out constant little sighs. 

Before you can completely lose all use of your limbs, Sam pulls back, beaming down at you like the goddamn sun, and moves his hands to your waist to gently push you away. 

“Come on,” he says, “we’ve got to get further into the woods.” The little punk _winks_ at you then, and you’re pretty sure he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and you can’t help but giggle a bit at his playful excitement. He grabs your hand, more like envelopes it really, with those massive paws he’s got, and whisks you along, and the two of you bound off through the trees probably looking for all the world like a couple of nutcases.  

Sam appears to decide you’ve reached the proper destination when he stops abruptly in a bit of woods that frankly looks the same to you as all the other bits of woods you’ve passed. You aren’t expecting it and you have to dig your heels into the dirt and still end up losing your balance and colliding with Sam’s broad back with a “hmmph.” He turns and steadies you, laughing, before taking his pack off and tossing it on the ground, pulling out a checkered wool blanket and shaking it out dramatically like it’s a fancy white tablecloth. He lays it out on a flat piece of earth right under the canopy of a large tree, bending to straighten it out until there are no wrinkles. 

“Such a gentleman,” you say, watching him with amusement, but you mean it. He’s been the picture of thoughtfulness and responsibility this whole trip; his steady reliability being one of the things that got your heart fluttering in the first place. 

“I also brought snacks,” he says, pulling out a bag of granola bars and beef jerky, “Uh, just in case we need some fuel.” He actually blushes a little bit at the implication. “Only if you want, of course,” he adds, and you have to hold back a snort because there is not actually a single thing you want more at this moment than to lie down on that blanket and spend the next several hours depleting every last ounce of your energy with Sam Winchester. 

He gestures to the blanket and you sit down, stretching your legs out in front of you and leaning back. You look up at him expectantly through your eyelashes, and he sits next to you, resting a hand above your knee and wasting no time in picking up where you left off. Sam kisses you deep and slow, and you’re both still a little breathless from running over here, but you stay locked together anyway until the burn in your lungs is too much and you have to pull away, panting. His hand is rubbing your leg absently as he noses along your cheek until you feel his breath tickling at your ear. 

“Tell me where you want me to kiss you.”

You’re lucky your elbows don’t give out at his whispered request, and in answer you arch your head back and shake your hair over your shoulder, exposing your neck. 

“Right under my jaw,” you pant out before you’re cut off with a gasp when Sam latches on to just the right spot, licking at it with just a scrape of teeth and getting it good and wet before nipping the skin sharply and massaging over the mark with sinfully soft lips. You find yourself sitting up and scrambling to get a hold on his shirt, little pleased hums and yelps falling from your mouth as he continues working down your throat. With each exhaled breath you’re leaning a bit closer, your body straining towards the source of the pleasure it’s receiving, until the space between you is too much and the friction between your legs too little, and you tighten your grip on Sam’s shirt and pull yourself up and swing your leg over so you’re straddling his hips. 

Your sudden movement surprises him into breaking away from your skin, but his hands are already sliding up your thighs while his brain adjusts. Those cupid’s bow lips are even pinker and slightly swollen, and his eyes are unfocused. You sink down onto his lap, settling yourself to fit snugly around his hips, sharp hipbones jutting against your inner thighs. His eyes flutter closed for a moment as you shift on top of him, causing his erection to twitch against you, and you lean in to his beckoningly-open mouth to take his bottom lip between yours, sucking on it gently. Sam’s hand flexes on your thigh and your hands are moving down his chest now, undoing the buttons of his flannel so he can shed it, leaving his happily-for-you much thinner undershirt. 

He leans back and you go with him, until his back is flush with the ground and you’re lying on top of him. He reaches up to brush the hair out of your face and gather it at the back of your head in one hand, then draws you in to kiss you languidly, licking into your mouth and skating his other hand down your back to palm your ass. Inhaling, you notice he smells like campfire wood now, the smoke having settled into his clothes and hair. Beneath you, his solid frame is relaxed and pliant, and he’s making soft noises deep in his chest that vibrate against you while he scratches lightly at your scalp. It seems like he would be content to kiss you all day, and as incredibly tempting as that prospect is, you do not have nearly enough patience, so you cant your hips forward, getting some much needed friction on your aching core. 

Sam lets out a surprised moan when you do so and his grip on your ass grows tight, holding you closer, so you grind down harder on his must-be-painfully hard cock. You continue rolling your hips against him as both his hands abandon their posts to paw at your waist, finding the hem of your shirt and slipping underneath where they run over every inch of skin they can find. You can feel the tensing of his abs where they’re pressed tight against your stomach, he bucks up into you and you find yourself wishing you didn’t have two layers of denim separating you. Sitting up and lifting yourself off of him just enough to get a hand between you, you unzip his jeans and slide a hand in to palm him over his boxers.   

Sam groans, deep and guttural, and grinds up into your hand as you lean back down, the weight of your body on top of your hand increasing the pressure and making him hiss through his teeth as you suck a mark into the exposed skin above the collar of his v-neck. 

His hands are burning against your skin as they pull your shirt up and over your head and undo the clasp of your bra, then return as soon as the garments have been discarded to caress up and down your now bare back. Getting fed up with the barrier of thick denim, you remove your hand from Sam’s cock and lift your hips to work at the button of your own jeans. You get as far as getting them unzipped before Sam grabs you by the hips and flips you both over so you’re lying back on the surprisingly soft, pine needle-cushioned ground.  

He hovers above you, forearms on either side of your shoulders, and takes a moment to assess your flushed and thoroughly blissed out state. Apparently he’s pleased with what he sees, because he flashes you a dimpled grin that’s somehow in his eyes as much as it is in his mouth and proceeds to look you up and down. 

“You’re beautiful.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, though a smile creeps its way into your cheeks. 

“I’m serious,” he says, and his face is so earnest and soft that all you can do is swallow thickly and meet his gaze until he breaks away to shuffle down your body until he’s level with your breasts. He cups one in his hand and kneads gently while his mouth descends on the other. He takes his time, tongue tracing patterns lightly all around your nipple, then breathing on the wet trails, making your skin tingle, then sucks a red mark on the soft underside of your breast. You shiver, though not from cold—it’s actually mild enough weather that it’s perfectly comfortable to be half naked outside—and Sam lifts his head to look at you.  

“How’re you doin’?” 

“Good, really good.” Your voice sounds shaky even to your own ears, and you internally scold yourself for your lack of composure. How are you to be blamed, though, really, with this lean-muscled pink-lipped beautiful man nestled between your thighs? 

Sam seems quite satisfied with your response and starts moving further down, kissing your ribcage just below your breasts, then continuing down along your abdomen, the touch of his lips making your muscles jump involuntarily, quivering beneath the skin. He reaches the waist of your jeans, nipping your hipbone before he pulls back and shifts his weight onto one elbow so he can slip his other hand past the elastic of your panties to rub your clit. You gasp and squirm when he sinks a long finger into you, then adds a second, working in and out while the heel of his hand presses against your clit firmly.  

“ _Sam_ ,” you whine, and he chuckles softly and crooks his fingers inside you one last time before removing them so he can get ahold of your waistband and pull down your jeans and panties at once. Once your legs are free, he settles himself between them and presses your thighs apart and down on the blanket. You realize vaguely that you’re now completely naked and Sam has practically all his clothes on, and you open your mouth to protest this point but are immediately distracted when his fingers are back on your wet folds, dancing over your clit teasingly. 

“Please,” you breathe, barely audible, but Sam hears. He nuzzles the warm skin at the crease of your thigh, then places deliberate kisses in a line from one hipbone to the other. You wriggle your hips a little in an attempt to get him to hurry up, and are rewarded instead with the tips of two of his fingers just barely dipping inside your entrance, making you moan in pleasured frustration at the agonizing lack of friction. 

Sam looks up at you and rests his chin on your lower belly, giving you the most innocent look like he has no idea what he’s doing to you. He pets your side comfortingly with one massive hand and then shifts, muscular shoulders rolling under his thin shirt as he positions himself with one forearm laid heavy across your hips.  

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you.”  

His mouth is on you now, those pretty lips close around your clit, and it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open, because you don’t want to miss the sight of his face between your legs. Your cries echo through the forest as he eats you out enthusiastically, making pleased sounds in his throat as he hears you falling apart. He works two fingers into you as he continues to lick and suck, and you grip the blanket with both hands when you come, your moan high and keening. You hope for a moment that you’ve gone deep enough in the woods that your friends won’t hear.  

As you come down from your high in a haze of endorphins, you feel the loss of Sam’s heat against you and loll your head to the side to see he’s finally shedding his clothes. You stare unabashedly, unable to tear your eyes away from his smooth-skinned, toned frame and red, leaking cock as he rolls on a condom. When he’s back on top of you your hands fly up like magnets to trace down his chest, over the sharp jut of his hips. You find yourself thinking that those shoulders will make excellent handholds.  

A moment later he’s finally sinking inside you, teeth gritted and jaw flexing at your tight heat. You give a throaty moan at the delicious stretch and automatically spread your legs to take him as deep as you can.  

“Fuck,” he breathes once he’s hilted, frozen with his eyes squeezed closed, “so good.” Once he gets a handle on himself he opens his eyes to watch your expression as he pulls his hips back and thrusts back in, nearly knocking the breath out of you from the force of the pleasure that hits you.  

“Ungh, Sam,” you pant as he sets an unhurried pace. 

“That feel good?” His voice is gravel-rough and honey-warm. He fondles your breast with one hand, the other wrapped in your hair. 

“Yes, _oh_ , god.” 

Sam smiles and kisses you soft and quick before finding just the right spot on your neck again and getting to work. He’s in no rush, content to pull sweet noises out of you and work up a sheen of sweat on both your bodies despite the cool air. It’s laid back and steady, not chasing towards anything but letting it build like the coming in of a tide, relaxed and loose-limbed and no contest the best sex you’ve ever had. When you come it’s with a choked moan, and Sam’s not far behind, his muscles tensing up beneath your fingers and a grunt into your shoulder signaling his release. 

Afterwards, Sam lies down next to you, pressing little kisses into your shoulder and absentmindedly stroking your bare stomach. You chat in hushed voices, despite the fact that neither of you were particularly quite just a few minutes before, and both of you start when you hear voices calling out from not too far away. 

“Guys!? Yoo hoo!”

“Where are you?!”

Your friends are stomping through the brush looking for you; it must have been longer than you’d realized. Now they’re in serious danger of innocently coming upon you and Sam stark naked. You break out into a fit of giggles at the situation, and Sam buries his face in the crook of your neck trying to muffle his laughter. 

“Shh, come on, get up,” you whisper through your giggles, and the two of you scramble to pull on your clothes and straighten up to some level of decency. Sam shoves the blanket back in the backpack and shouts, “We’re right over here!” before grabbing your hand and pulling you along back onto the trail. He turns to give you one last wink before clearing his throat and doing his best impression of someone who didn’t just have fantastic sex on a blanket in the middle of the woods. 

Hopefully, your friends will mistake your messed up hair and breathless flush as being from hiking, but you and Sam will know the truth, and the thought puts a grin on your face as you wave to your companions. This is shaping up to be an excellent trip.


End file.
